


There But For The Grace of God

by bananasandroses (achuislemochroi)



Series: Whofic [55]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 2X06 (The Age of Steel), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Originally Posted Elsewhere, Romance, Tenth Doctor Era, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 02:51:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6266569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achuislemochroi/pseuds/bananasandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if it had been Rose Tyler, not Sally Phelan?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There But For

He has a new nightmare, now, since that parallel world full of Cybermen and upgrading and that horrendous factory inside a power station with its chimneys belching out fœtid smoke from all the “incompatibles” that had been slaughtered. He dreams of that, enough of a nightmare in itself, and he – who is King of the nightmares, after all, he has so many of them – can cope with that, bad enough as it is. He's seen worse.

But then the nightmare changes, and it's something else; cold, and horrible, and something that makes him want to scream in terror. He's back in that power station with Mrs. Moore, back with that Cyberman with the broken emotional inhibitor. The same, but this time different. It's so plausible, it terrifies him. What if it had happened to _her_? He'd promised her mum he'd keep her safe; he couldn't have gone back to Jackie and told her that her daughter had become one of these metal machines. He couldn't have, it would have killed her.

“Why am I cold?”  
“Oh, my God. It's alive. It can feel.”  
“We broke the inhibitor.” 

As he had done in reality, his dream-self leans over the Cyberman and touches its head. “I'm sorry,” he says, meaning it for once. “I'm so sorry.”

“Why so cold?”  
“Can you remember your name?” 

And here the reality twists away, into something more menacing. He knows she's OK, he's _seen_ her survive it, get home to hug her mother. Rationally, he knows this can't be her. But still the dream continues.

“Rose. Rose Tyler.”  
“You're a woman.” 

Mrs. Moore's speaking; he is stunned. Horrified, frozen; beyond speech. 

How could he have been so stupid to let her follow Pete Tyler into the jaws of hell without so much as a murmur of dissent? How could he have let her out of his sight? When he'd yelled at Mickey about gingerbread houses he'd never dreamed it could end like this, but he should have foreseen it, should have pulled rank and refused to let Rose leave without him. Rose, his Rose, worse than dead; and, as usual, it's his fault.

“Oh, no. No, no; no, no, _no_!” 

A huge lump has appeared in his throat, and the words he forces out from around it sound harsh and gasping. Mrs. Moore looks at him, confused; the sight of him makes her blanch. He looks so old, and the expression in his eyes brings tears to hers. _He knows her. Oh, God_ – the realisation hits her.

“Doctor, where are you?” 

If there was any doubt, Mrs. Moore's face said, then this settled it.

“I'm here, Rose.” 

The Doctor's voice is soft and tender, meant for Rose's ears alone, and Mrs. Moore flinches from it as she realises what Rose is to him.

“I'll be in so much trouble. 'Don't wander off', he's always saying to me. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry.”

Mrs. Moore looks across at the Doctor and sees the tears streaming down his face, the agony in his eyes.

“Oh, Rose; it's all right. You'll not be in trouble.” 

Mrs. Moore again; he can't trust himself to speak.

“I'm cold. I'm so cold.”

He's holding her now while he weeps, and he doesn't _care_ what it looks like, or what Mrs. Moore thinks of him; what matters any more, anyway, now that his Rose is dead? He knows what he has to do, what he would want if this were he, but a part of his mind is nevertheless screaming for him not to do it.

“I'm sorry.”

The pain is vicious, and he can't stand it. He loves her, and she's dying. _And I never told you I loved you, I never_ said _; God, Rose, I'm so, so sorry._ “I'm so sorry; you sleep now, darling. Just go to sleep.”

He points the sonic screwdriver just inside her suit; the blue light is slow to fade, before it winks out.

And the Doctor wakes, gasping for breath.


	2. The Grace of God

_And the Doctor wakes, gasping for breath._

Although as a general rule he didn’t sleep as much as humans, and definitely not as long as Rose could manage, it didn’t mean that he needed no sleep at all; he’d hoped that with Rose at home, and safe, his brain would shut up long enough to let him get a few hours’ rest. But it didn’t look as if he was going to get any more of it tonight.

The concept of a cybernised Rose appeared to be seared into his memory, false though he knew it to be, and every time he closed his eyes to try to sleep the image kept on popping back up. In the end, he gave up – he could, after all, do without having to relive that particular dream thank-you-very-much. 

Rose had taken losing Mickey harder than he had expected; he had wondered off-and-on, in the days they’d spent here in London, whether her rejection by the parallel universe’s version of her father minutes before Mickey's departure had had anything to do with it. He had good cause to know about her issues surrounding Pete Tyler, after all; he shuddered involuntarily at the reminder. 

The parallel Pete Tyler was probably a factor, he suspected, but how large a one was anybody’s guess. He wasn’t about to bring the subject up again, in the circumstances; neither Rose nor Jackie were likely to take it well. Rose would, in any case, tell him in her own time if there was anything she wanted him to know. He was certain of that much.

_Maybe if I see her I can prove to myself (again) that she’s OK, that she has not been cybernised, that I’ve not lost her._

It was irrational, he knew. But he’d gone past the point where he was able to be rational about how he felt about her some time ago, now; she was the most important thing and he was starting to suspect that his brain wouldn’t shut up about it until he’d satisfied himself that she was all right. That thought uppermost in his mind, he got out of bed and changed back into the familiar brown pinstripes. Feeling a little more confident already, and pushing down the unbidden thought of how he was using his clothes as armour, he proceeded towards the Control Room and the TARDIS doors.

He would probably have to move the TARDIS if they were going to stay much longer, he thought; Jackie was many things, but patient about 1950s police telephone boxes in her front room was not one of them. He was out of his ship and into Jackie’s front room almost faster than he could complete the thought.

He opened the first door he found, used the light from the estate outside to ascertain that it must be Jackie’s room – the picture on the night stand of Jackie and Pete on their wedding day was enough to convince him, and he left the room and closed the door, making as little noise as possible. The next door, opposite Jackie’s, turned out to be the kitchen; the one after that, the bathroom. He really ought to have paid more attention the last time he’d been here.

Closing the bathroom door behind him, he went towards the only door he hadn’t opened. That _had_ to be Rose’s room. Surprised not to find the door completely closed, he pushed it open far enough to let himself through before closing and locking it behind him. He didn’t want Jackie interrupting anything. 

“Doctor?”

He turned towards the voice. He’d thought – at this hour, 2 o’clock in the morning London time – she’d be asleep. Then again, if she’d had dreams anything like his, it wasn’t surprising at all.

“How did you know it was me?” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

“Who else do I know who’s likely to be sneaking around the place at night? Hardly likely to be Mum; she sleeps like a log.” He could hear the wry amusement in her voice and chuckled quietly. He sighed, then, and the next words out of his mouth were louder and in the soft, tender tone he only ever used with her.

“I suppose you’re right; yes, it’s me. What’s up, Rose – can’t sleep?”

“No.” He didn’t ask why; he suspected he already knew. His next words tumbled out before his brain could stop them.

“D’you want me to stay here with you?” The answer was immediate.

“Yes. Yes, please.” Her tone worried him, and he was beside her in seconds. Dropping down beside her on the bed he gathered her into his arms in a loose embrace, chattering softly at her.

“It’s all right. It’s all right, I’ve got you. You’re quite safe, darling; I’ve got you.”

_Oh, shit._

Silence. He moved closer, unable to articulate further; she seemed to accept that she would get nothing out of him for the present.

“Doctor? I’m cold.”

He froze. Did she say that, or was it his imagination? For a second or two he could neither move nor speak; then he shivered, and pulled her closer still, tightening his arms around her. She made an incoherent noise. He buried his face in the cleft between her neck and her shoulder, and the next thing he knew there were tears. His tears.

“Oh, Rose; I nearly lost you,” he gasped. For a moment, nothing happened, then he felt an arm go around him.

“Do you mind letting me breathe, Doctor, d’you think?” The voice was gentle, with a hint of something else beneath it. He released her briefly before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back towards him. 

“I nearly lost you, Rose,” his said, his voice full of emotion. “I nearly lost you, and it would have been my fault. I can’t keep doing this to you; it’s not fair. And quite apart from anything else I can’t stand it any more.”

“You’re leaving me?” Rose’s voice was full of fear.

“I can’t,” he said, and his voice cracked. “I can’t leave you, Rose, I simply _can’t_ ; and therein lies the problem.”

“Why not?” Rose asked, her voice softer still.

He opened his mouth as if to speak before raising his hand to her chin, angling her face up towards him before moving to cup her cheek. His eyes were locked on hers; before he had time to think about what he was doing he had closed the gap between them and kissed her desperately. A fraction of time later and she began to reciprocate, lifting her own hand to bury it in his hair. He swallowed a groan before moving his tongue into Rose’s mouth, deepening the kiss, trying to say everything with his body that he could not do with words.

For a minute or two they remained on the bed, kissing like two lovers; Rose broke the kiss, gasping for breath, staring up at him. And then he broke the spell, dropping a gentle kiss on Rose’s cheek.

“C’mon, you. Sleep. I know how grumpy you get when you don’t have enough.” He moved away as if to get up, but Rose’s hand landed on his wrist and he looked up to see a determined expression on her face. 

“Oh no, you don't; you're not going anywhere, sunshine. You said you'd stay with me all night.” His expression as he looked down at her was thoughtful.

“You're right; I did, didn't I?” He made to sit on the floor beside her, but Rose was having none of that, either.

“Don't be more stupid than you can help, eh? Take off your shoes and get in here.” She had shoved over on the bed enough so there was room for him. He sighed, conceding defeat – he knew there was no winning this one – and sat down on the bed to remove his Converse. He also removed his sonic screwdriver from his pocket and unlocked Rose's bedroom door again – he didn't want to face Jackie trying to hammer it down in the morning – and then, finally, he allowed himself to lie down beside Rose and pull the covers over them both.

“Rose, I ...” He couldn't say it. He wanted – needed – to say it, but he just couldn't.

“I know, Doctor. You don't need to say it; I know.” His arms went around her then and drew her close to him so that her head nestled against his shoulder. His Rose. He couldn't lose her, he _couldn't_.

Jackie Tyler found them there in the morning, wrapped around each other; she considered raising the roof by yelling at them but decided against it in the end. It had only been a matter of time, after all.


End file.
